And Janna Makes Three
by Aya-kun Rose
Summary: Janna has a suggestion to make to Piltover's Finest: Piltover's Vijanna? Good idea or GREAT idea? (Fair warning: it's not M in the slightest, maybe T though for language and subject matter.)


Vi snorted into her tea. On replaying Janna's joke, she realized it deserved better: she leaned back in her patchwork recliner and _guffawed_.

The tall hexwork clock in the corner balefully tolled the hour. Neither of the remaining occupants of the Sheriff's tidy sitting room made a sound.

Sensing as much – long, _long_, after the fact – Vi clamped her mouth shut, biting her tongue in the process. Setting the fragile china on her lap, she grinned weakly at the knowing look shared between Janna and Caitlyn.

"That was a joke, though . . ?" The young enforcer paled as she studied the two women for any hint of shenanigans. What she saw made her swallow hard. "_Right_?"

Janna sat on their small couch, demure, composed, her gray eyes smiling and confident. Caitlyn was worse. She lounged in her upholstered throne of an armchair and sipped her tea as if the wind mage hadn't just propositioned the pair of them.

The Sheriff's cup settled into the saucer with hardly a rattle. "Vi's birthday is right around the corner, I believe." Janna made a quiet noise that implied she found that tidbit of information most fascinating. Scratch that, she outright _purred_.

Vi choked. She fumbled for her cup, tilting back the still-scalding brew. Its heat only added to the startled burn of her cheeks, while the tannins left her mouth drier than before. She stared into the empty tea cup for moral support, suddenly unable to look anybody in the eye ever again.

"Uhhh," she confided to the golden dregs. The words "LINGERIE" and "SCANDAL" trumpeted through her head, accompanied by full-sized color photos. She cleared her throat. "Hrm."

Then she quietly got up and left the room.

Cup and saucer still in hand, Vi finally looked up to see that she had found her way out onto the back patio. Right. Fresh air. She crossed to the dry birdbath and set the china in its basin, the closest thing she could find to a table without going back inside. Taking a physical and mental step back, she took a deep, soul-searching breath.

. . .

_**?!**_

Caitlyn had big plans for their garden but not the time, whereas Vi had not the interest. Once, in a rash fit of coordination, they had managed to erect what passed for a gazebo in a corner of the yard. It had never been painted, and the flagstones still only reached half the distance from the back door. That long weekend had been over a year ago.

The ivy had since grown thick over the latticework canopy and was now creeping down the rusty chain towards the weathered punching bag that Vi had installed months back and promptly forgotten. She stooped for and dusted off the raggedy pair of training gloves that waited patiently on the wooden floor, reflexively slipping them on.

The jabs she threw at the molding bag held no fire. Left, left, _duck_, right; the familiar routine whited out the color that lingered warm on her cheeks, gentled her stammering heartbeat back into something that felt like her own.

Right, right, _duck_, left. The amateur woodwork groaned as the slim boxer shuffled over the warped boards. The untrimmed grass buried the sound of Caitlyn's approach, but even with her back turned, Vi sensed her before the steps creaked under the Sheriff's tall boots.

Storming out on a distinguished guest at tea-time counted as a criminal offence in this household. Master Host Caitlyn would never leave a guest unattended, which meant Janna had absconded by now. Vi didn't turn.

And then: "Are you upset?"

Vi had, despite her wild impulsiveness, had her fill of surprise questions today. Her shoulders came up a little higher. "No." Left, left, _duck_, right.

"Distressed?" Caitlyn crossed her arms and leaned tentatively against the beam of the entry arch. The whole structure creaked in warning. Vi sidled around the side of the bag to give her partner room. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Caitlyn pinning the vine-laced canopy above with a stern look, daring it to give way.

"No." Catching herself, Vi resumed her routine after only the ghost of a second, still circling.

"Offended?"

"No—" Vi let her arms fall, shrugging her way around the far side of the bag to engage Caitlyn openly for the first time since her awkward escape. "Maybe confused? I'm going to go with confused. What the hell just happened, Cait?"

Caitlyn's smile tilted down on one side, an apology. She dropped her gaze to the sagging floorboards, her demeanor approaching contrite. Vi's stomach flopped – wasn't she the guilty one here? "I thought you fancied her," the Sheriff admitted. She paused, glancing up. "Remember when you got her autograph at the Festival of Flight? You talked about it for two weeks straight before _and_ after."

Vi pushed a gloved hand through her shaggy hair. "Yeah, I wanted her to _sign my shirt_," she snorted, "not go down on me. Or on you." Caitlyn's lips thinned as they always did when the enforcer strolled beyond the bounds of common decency, but given the circumstances, she let it pass without comment.

Vi's eyes narrowed, and she took a half step back, finger pointed in sudden suspicion. "Wait, were you in on this?"

In contrast, Caitlyn's eyes went wide. She uncrossed her arms and raised them in the manner of one attempting to settle a flighty pet. "Believe me when I say that I am just as surprised as you are, sweetheart. There's no conspiracy here."

"Then, I don't get it." Vi shook her head, turning to lean on the rough railing. Tilting her head over her shoulder, her bangs fell across her eyes. "Does this just happen? Do _you_ want to . . . want to? Her?"

Caitlyn huffed a short sigh in the back of her throat. She wet her lips, her mouth falling open a moment before she spoke. "I suppose you'd like an honest answer, then?"

Vi's brow furrowed. "It'd be nice."

Another moment lapsed in silence while the Sheriff sorted her thoughts, her arms folding once more. Vi waited, fidgeting, picking splinters out of the wood. "Honestly, once she . . . offered, I expected you to jump at the chance." Caitlyn kept her tone even, almost bland despite the subject matter. "Now I see that my assumption went wide of the mark. I do apologize."

Again, Vi shook her head. "No, but, if I _had_ jumped? You'd just be okay with that?" She straightened, holding onto the rail at arms' length and staring into the grain, locking her elbows in frustration. "Cait, _I don't get it_. If I wanted to, you'd want to, too? You'd – go along with it? Or you'd be interested either way? I mean – without me?"

"Ah—" The Sheriff's posture changed, the woman's cool bearing melting in an instant. "Let me be clear. My heart lies completely with you, Vi. Miss Windforce appeals in many ways, but – and this is rather mercenary of me, isn't it – the only scenario I can see involving Janna is one where your pleasure is at stake. As such, I'd never accept an offer like that on your behalf or without your consent. You just say the word, dear, and it'll be off the table forever."

The tightness in Vi's chest released, along with the breath she'd didn't know she'd been holding. She relaxed even further as Caitlyn took a quiet step to her side and pulled her into a comforting hug. Vi leaned back into it, Caitlyn's chin settling onto her shoulder.

"And Janna came over just to ask?" With her concerns abated, Vi tentatively poked at the idea. She marveled at the memory of Janna – dear sweet precious _Janna_ – calmly voicing the suggestion, and tried to wrap her head around the audacious concept. "Is this just a thing that people do?"

Caitlyn's chuckle was warm and low in her ear. The Sheriff pressed a chaste kiss to the enforcer's neck before murmuring, "I'll stroke our collective ego and say that I can't miss what's in it for her."

There was no helping the automatic shudder that ran through Vi, top to toe – Caitlyn had mastered Vi's buttons oh-so long ago. Cinching out of Caitlyn's grasp to get some space, Vi swiveled to look her in the eye. She lifted her ratty-gloved hands and Caitlyn took them willingly. "So you would? You seriously would totally do this? You and me and, and Janna."

"I understand your disbelief." Caitlyn squeezed her hands, tender now. "I've honestly not entertained the idea before today, but suppose I find it – novel? Somewhat exciting? Janna's a very beautiful and powerful woman, and I'll admit she's made me more than a little curious. But it's up to you."

Vi screwed up her mouth, before throwing her head back and giving utterance to a thoroughly conflicted howl. That accomplished, she dropped her chin down and pouted up at Caitlyn through the pink swoop of her bangs. "I don't know, this is like, some serious adult shit right here. I'm too young for this."

"Tell you what," Caitlyn smiled, leading Vi by the hand down onto the lawn and back towards the house. "How about we forget about the whole thing for now and I take you for ice cream." Vi trudged along behind, her slouch mostly for show, the roll of her eyes largely sardonic.

"I'm not _that_ young . . ." she argued, biting her tongue when Caitlyn's sharp eyes caught sight of the waylaid cup and saucer. They swerved towards the birdbath, the Sheriff deftly rescuing her prized china. Since no scolding words immediately followed, Vi decided to press her luck: "Can I get two scoops?"

"You can get three if you wish," Caitlyn replied without irony, momentarily distracted by the task of surveying the tea set for signs of injury. One glance over at the strange face Vi was pulling, and she hastily backpedaled. "Or maybe two will suffice after all."


End file.
